That did not mean, however, that she stayed out of his bedroom. No, on the first night that she was released from the hospital, he had insisted she stay with him. In his bedroom. She had earned it.
It was where she was now, but not to rest and recover.
Dallas was being gentle with her, and it was torturous. Delicious and awful.
Her hands were bound in a silk kerchief to his bedpost. He had helped prop her up enough that it didn’t pull on her wound, but it did leave her open and vulnerable to his ministrations.
He had started with a massage, heating oil between his hands and then rubbing every inch of her exposed front. His hands were strong, kneading deep. Now they swirled around her breasts, making them feel full and sensitive, her nipples aching and tight.
“Stay still, you don’t want to hurt yourself.” He admonished, his voice low and husky with desire.
She was trying to, but the way he was touching her everywhere but where she most wanted it had her lifting her hips, moaning.
“Dallas, please,” she pleaded.
Instead he moved off the bed, his naked body moving lithely to a table, where there were candles there that he had lit. He picked up one, long and tapered, wax already dripping down the sides. Mariel’s eyes grew huge as he carried it back to the bed, carefully crawling beside her.
“You wouldn’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He did. With one hand he cupped her hot slit, sliding a finger inside. She gasped, finally being touched where she needed the most. Then he began his torture.
Dallas stroked the inside of her gently, his thumb circling her clit until she felt the peak of an orgasm approaching. Just when she was about to come, he dripped the candle onto her skin. The burn was exquisite. It was also distracting. As the wax cooled, he would brush it from her skin, kissing away the sting.
Over and over he did this, bringing her to the edge, dripping the wax over her nipples, her hips, her inner thighs…
Mariel was one, long exposed nerve, wound so tightly that she didn’t know how to separate the pain from the need to climax. She began writhing, needing release so badly she ignored her wound. That was when Dallas set the candle away, kissing her and stroking her hair.
“Shhhh, Mariel.” He kissed her temples, the hollow of her throat. “Shhh, come back to me.”
She managed to stop wriggling her body, stop pulling at her bonds. She couldn’t stop the desperate sounds escaping from her throat. They were pitiful, dark, raw pleads. He heard, and she saw him smirk.
Delicately Dallas slid himself between her oiled and sweat soaked thighs, easing his thick length inside of her. They rocked together, slowly. She ached with the fullness of him, her eyes glued to his as they both moved, gently.
She saw his climax on his face, his eyes squeezed tight as he shuddered inside her. Seeing his release set off own and she came, hard, finally getting the release she so needed, squeezing the length of him until they were both gasping.
After, he untied her and bathed her, making sure she wasn’t hurt.
As she lay in his arms, sleep pulling her under, she knew he’d never hurt her again. And she would do her best to keep him from hurting, too.
That meant protecting Roger.
Corrupt Policies
Penelope L’Amoreaux
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Excerpt
About the Author
“We both know your tastes can be a little eclectic. There was that whole business a few years ago…”
Senator Roger Taylor had been cleared of any potential guilt over the Ellen-money laundering fiasco. They’d moved on to hit the campaign trail aggressively, and it had paid off; he’d won his seat by a landslide. The office had moved from Alexandria, Virginia to right in the heart of Washington, D.C. and Paige had moved into Roger’s bed. Everything was going great… or it should have been.
But Ellen’s words, spoken moments before she’d killed herself, haunted Paige. Roger’s tastes in bed had been far from eclectic. He was an amazing lover, but things were pretty vanilla. He wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t mention what had happened. She had even tried to bring it up with Dallas, his brother. That’d gone nowhere; both Taylors pleaded ignorance and kept their mouths firmly shut.
On top of everything else, they had never discovered who the mysterious “S” had been, which caused no small amount of anxiety for all of them. Roger was focused on the Senate now, but she knew it gnawed at him constantly. After all, who could scare someone like Ellen so badly she chose suicide over failure? And where’d he disappear to?
Roger liked to keep her busy as his personal aide. She had also noticed that, whether he meant to or not, he was keeping her out of his inner loop. It riled Paige that she was good enough to sleep with but not good enough to trust. Roger was forgetting that before she worked for him, she had worked as an investigative journalist. When something didn’t smell right, she knew how to get at the source. Well, things smelled pretty rank from where she was, and that meant getting answers. Even if she had to do it alone.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter One
“I need a favor. A big one.” Paige chewed the end of her pencil, ignoring the fact that it clacked on the phone.
“Paige, it’s so good to hear from you. I’m great, the kids are great, thanks for asking.” Karen’s droll reply brought a smile to Paige’s face. Her former editor had always had a dry sense of humor and a kind tolerance for Paige’s abruptness.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Glad everything is great. I do need a favor, though.”
Karen’s tone shifted to serious when she said, “Sure. In exchange for a call every now and then. Or a coffee date. Hell, an e-mail. You were one of my best reporters, Paige, and I hate that I don’t hear from you.”
Warmth flooded through Paige. She was always pleased with praise. There hadn’t been a lot of it growing up, no matter her accomplishments, so now that she was older she basked in it when it came. Karen had been a friend, not just her boss, and it was nice to hear it was mutual. “You’ve got a deal. Do you remember the fundraiser in D.C. for Senator Taylor at the Capitol Hilton a few months ago?”
“Yeah, sure. It was pretty successful and my writer got tanked while he was there, so no real story.”
“Could you get me the guest list?”
There was a pause at the other end. “Paige… you work for Senator Taylor. You would have that list quicker than me. Why are you asking?”
Paige chewed her pencil enough to feel it begin to splinter between her teeth. How much should she say? Karen was right--Paige had the invite list and the donations list… but not the full attendee list. She might have been able to get it with Dallas’s and Roger’s help, but if she was honest, she didn’t trust them to give it to her.
For a moment her chest squeezed, a familiar ache spreading. Roger, the man she loved, the man she shared a bed with every night, was hiding things from her. When she had tried to help them catch “S” in the past, they’d taken her ideas. Not taken and run with, just taken and then left her standing, confused and disoriented. No, she couldn’t ask them for help.
“I’m just cross-referencing for some future invites. You know, comparing the actual attendees against our lists of donations, and making lists of press, guests, etcetera. Tedious work for the Senator and all that jazz.”
Karen wasn’t sold. “You’re on to something and you don’t want to tell me.”
Busted. “Yes.”
“Would you be willing to write a freelance expose if you find something?”
Hmmm. Other than a
n initial, Paige wasn’t sure who she was looking for, or what his angle was. Her gut, fine-tuned in her previous career, said that this was probably the sort of scandal she’d have paid for as a journalist but wanted to keep out of the media for Roger. After all, Ellen had repeatedly mentioned “saving” Roger. And there were those eclectic tastes she had dropped…
“If I have something, I won’t write it, but send me a few of your favorite writers and I’ll drop them a line.” It was a lie, but Karen wasn’t going to help her otherwise, not if she thought a story was there. “It’s a long shot. I doubt I’ll find anything. If not… do you want an exclusive interview instead?”
She heard the exasperated sigh on the other end. Her former boss hated bullshit almost as much as she hated settling. An interview would definitely be settling. Roger was too much of a transparent good-boy for it to be a front-page piece. At least, that was how he appeared. “Fine. Don’t forget who helped you get that job, Paige.”
The last comment made Paige bristle. Sure, Karen had written a phenomenal recommendation and made the introductions she had needed to be Roger’s speech writer and public relations manager. But she liked to believe her writing and tenacity had been the major factors in her landing the job.
“I won’t. Thanks, Karen. Send them to my personal e-mail. You still have it.”
Click.
Paige leaned back in her seat. She should feel bad, going behind Roger’s back. Hell, she should feel worried, too. After all, he had been blindsided by Ellen’s betrayal, and his trust had become so much harder to earn and maintain because of it. That much was evident by his keeping Paige at a distance, despite their intimate relationship.
She didn’t feel bad or worried, though. She felt the rush, the thrill of the hunt. This was what she had lived for, before joining Roger’s campaign. Long before speechwriting and now, working as his aide, she had been a damned fine reporter. If there was a scoop, she found it.
Discovering the identity of “S” was just the thing she needed to prove to Roger how devoted she was to him.
~ ~ ~ ~
Paige waited outside of Mariel’s hospital room in disbelief. When she had taken Ellen’s phone, her only goal was to get Ellen fired and keep Roger from being framed. She was mortified at how triumphant she’d felt, not seeing the gun in Ellen’s hand until it was aimed at him.
Her stomach had leapt into her throat with the impending certainty that Roger was about to be stolen from her, slamming into her chest so that she couldn’t breathe. As Dallas tried to block the gun, Mariel had burst from the pantry, racing toward Ellen and--
BANG.
Paige had never heard a gun before. Stunned by the deafening report, she clamped her hands over her ears, squeezed tight her eyes, and dropped to her knees in an instant. It wasn’t until Dallas’s piercing cry overrode the muffled ringing in her ears, that Paige had opened her eyes.
Roger was standing there, stunned. His eyes gazed unbelievingly at his brother, who was cradling Paige’s friend close in his arms, his hands covered in her blood.
BANG! The second shot pulled all of them into focus as Ellen’s body crumpled to the floor, the wall behind her splattered with blood and gore.
After the ambulance left with her friend, Paige had been forced to stay with Roger and speak with the police. It hadn’t taken long to explain what had happened and to get in contact with Roger’s lawyer. Then they’d ridden in his limo to the hospital, silent and numb.
Now she was listening to Dallas whisper to Mariel through the door. Paige’s jaw ached, making her realize she was clenching her teeth. Hell, she was clenching everything--her body was strung tight.
Roger came around a corner. He had two cups of coffee in his hands. When he saw her, though, he set them down and rushed over. He opened his arms but she was too numb to dive into them. Paralyzed, she stared blankly until he began to shake; until she realized he wasn’t the one shaking, she was. Her body trembled as the stress of the night finally won, her calm collapsing.
“You almost died,” she whispered. “She was going to kill you.”
He dropped his hands, seeming unsure. “Yeah, but she didn’t.” He took another tentative step forward. “Paige, I need to tell you--”
But her mouth silenced him as she threw herself forward, grabbing his face and kissing him, hard. Their mouths crushed together, tongues wrestling. All of Paige’s emotions were poured into that kiss; it was an easier way for her to communicate in that moment.
Her message was received. Roger’s hands grabbed at her and his greedy fingers pulled frantically at her. They pressed more tightly together, surging together.
A gentle cough behind them pulled them out from the magnetic hold of their first kiss. It was Dallas.
“Mariel’s doing fine. Maybe, uh, maybe both of you should go home.” Despite the circumstances, there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Flustered, Paige began tugging and pulling at her shirt, but Roger smiled.
“Thanks, Dallas.” He grabbed her hand and she allowed him to lead her all the way to his bed.
Chapter Two
It was several days before the list arrived. In the meantime, Paige was busy with Roger’s schedule. Their days had always been hectic, from his first campaign through his re-election.
Roger’s alarm went off at 5AM. Paige groaned as its cheerful beep dragged her kicking and screaming from sleep. This was both the best and worst moment of her day. The worst because the room was still dark; the sun hadn’t begun to rise yet. Her body ached, her mind sluggish and painful as she curled in tighter, refusing to admit it was time to get up. The best because…
A hand, strong and firm, wrapped around her. Roger’s body pressed into her back and she loved the heat of it, his chest and abs firm from lifting weights at the gym and his breath whispering on the nape of her neck.
He reached up his free hand and, cupping her breast, began to roll her nipple gently between his fingertips. Paige moaned, though in protest or in pleasure she wasn’t completely sure. Roger woke her up like this each morning, a gentle, sweet seduction.
His lips moved to kiss and inhale the scent of her long, straight black hair. It was a dye job but not far from her natural color. She loved the way her dark hair and curvier hips balanced his blond waves and cut body. Yin and yang and all that crap. Mostly she loved his blue eyes, that seemed to soak up every inch of her, body and soul, when he looked at her.
She pressed back into him, her arms reaching behind to run through his hair. He slipped his hand lower, teasing like a feather across her abdomen, his fingers sliding into her and she gasped. He slowly stroked her until her body was humming and her needy cries filled the air.
He rolled her over and sank between her legs, his thick cock pushing into her in one slow stroke. Roger leaned closed and sighed and she breathed it in. His hips rocked into her, their breaths mingling, her legs twining around his until it felt like they were one writhing organism.
She arched up into him, close to coming, trying to engulf more of him. He groaned and picked up his pace. This was her favorite part, just toward the end when he lost himself a bit. The fleeting moment where he got a little rough with her. His hips thrust into her. She wished he’d truly let go, dreaming of frenzied fucking, the kind that left marks. With her eyes squeezed shut, it was this fantasy that pushed her over the edge.
Paige came with a shout, Roger following quickly after. He leaned into her after, her body accepting his strength and his weight. Finally, she felt him slide off of her, the cold morning air hitting her sweat-slicked body.
He moved about the room, methodical, pulling on his workout clothes. “We’re running a little late, do you mind briefing me while I exercise?”
They weren’t running late, he just liked to push himself every morning. This, too, was part of their routine.
“Sure.” She slipped out of bed and pulled on a robe, loving the thin cashmere softness of it. While he started warming up, she stopped in the kitchen for a cup
of coffee and to grab her laptop from its bag.
When she made it back to Roger he was already coasting on the treadmill. He made running look easy, his breathing smooth and his stride even.
“You’ve got two committee meetings this morning, one for the EPA and the other trying to add the education addendum to the Economic Opportunity Act.”
He increased his speed, the sound of his feet hitting the belt amplifying off of the walls. “What’s in the Senate this morning?”
She looked. Ugh. “The Property Distribution and Consumer Activism Act.” The act itself wasn’t about sanctity of property or about the consumer, it was about making room for more strip malls at the expense of landowners. The PDCA Act wasn’t popular in the Senate on either side of the aisle and was undoubtedly going to be shut down.
“I can miss that, right?”
“There are more than sixty votes against. You can skip.”
“Thank God.” He increased his speed again. Sweat dripped off him, the sheen of it highlighting the sculpted muscles of his chest and abs. Paige loved his legs the most, though. Thick, strong thighs that were long and sinewy and bulging calves that were a testament to his daily runs.
Paige made a mark on his calendar. She had it set up to ping his phone as his appointments came up. “Oh, and you have lunch with Senator Hubert and Senator James.”
He faltered for a moment, his rhythmic pace broken in his irritation. “Cancel it.”
“Roger--”
“Cancel it. Those are my father’s suck ups. I’m sure they want to discuss the pipeline, despite knowing my stance on it.”
“It’d look good to at least meet with them.” Paige knew how much of politics was, well, ‘office’ politics. Meeting with other Senators, even ones in the opposition. Hearing them out. Being seen making an effort. Roger tended to shy away from being visible. In Washington, that sometimes meant being written off, and he had too many great ideas and passionate opinions to be written off.
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